Accumulated nonsense from one arrow's journey through time and space

September 2007

09/29/2007

Turning on the TV is always something I later regret. No wonder people are so messed up. All of the messages on there are "you are what you have" and that's so backwards. The standard of life should be measured by happiness and satisfaction with yourself rather than what you have.

My Lebanese aunt recommended a hair product for me to try to help with whatever the hell's going on with my hair right now. The main ingredients are henna and animal placenta, which kind of makes me think of drinking the blood of virgins to stay young, but not quite as bad. Gross. But then again, you should see her hair... wow. So I have a pack of the stuff in front of me and I'm trying to work up the courage to open it. But it's all squishy and gooey and placenta-y (by the way, the package says that it's cruelty free (?) and not tested on animals). It also reminds me of that one South Park episode with the paralyzed super man dude and the stem cells. Hmm.

Why is it that girls have to alter their bodies so much? Bleach unwanted hair that you don't want to shave or wax but just want to disappear, shave or wax unwanted hair for silky smoothness, dye your hair, tweeze your eyebrows, make this darker, make this lighter, paint this, powder that, line this, cover that up, pinch, tuck, flex, don't breathe, change the way you walk, wear wired undergarments, etc...

Then again, it's nothing new. Women have been doing this crap in variations since the beginning of time. It's just an instinct-- not vanity, but a sense of competition. Who can look prettier than all the others and get the cutest guy? That's all it comes down to.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go remove the whitening strips from my teeth, wash the bleach off my arms, and put colored animal placenta in my hair.

09/28/2007

There's something so horribly wrong about a church full of teenagers and college kids at a funeral for a 21-year-old friend. What's even worse is seeing the parents and grandparents have to lose someone so young. And Lara's sisters... who knows what's going on in their minds.

A few days ago, Lara came home from her university, locked herself in the bathroom with a loaded gun and never came out. Her mom found her just a few hours later... and let's just say that it's a really good thing that the casket was closed.

*shudder*

Only 21.

Those are pretty much all the details I know, and that's probably for the best. It was the most depressing high school reunion ever.

The memorial service was beautiful though. The emphasis was on compassion and forgiving her for what she had done and continuing to love her, which was an interesting spin on things. Forgiveness isn't something that had even crossed my mind until the dude in the robe said it, but it makes sense... kind of. Forgive what exactly? The effect that it has on everyone else and the pain that her death has caused, or forgive her for taking her own life? Both maybe?

Poor dear. Such a sweet girl too.

What happens when you die? It must be so nice to have something to believe in that can comfort you when you need it the most. That really seems like something you have to be taught from a very young age in order to believe. I really don't think people can convert from one way of thinking to another-- especially in regards to something so deeply ingrained in their lives. It's not like brand loyalty where you buy one thing all the time until you discover something better...

But if there's just some terrible tragic life-altering event that shakes a person to the core and gets deep into that part of their lives, and something new fills gaps where the old leaves a void, then sure. I can think of two possibilities where that could happen in my life, but I'm afraid to write them down.

09/24/2007

09/23/2007

One of the most important things a person can learn is how to prioritize. Not just in the career sense of doing the most important thing first, but in life in general. It's so important to not only know what's most important, but to also be able to act on it without guilt.

A person is not defined by his or her job. Sure, that's the contribution, the one gear in the machine that keeps everything going, but it's still just the way to get by. But people work to make money so they can support themselves and their families. That makes self and family the most important aspects of life.

Screw staying up late to work on a project for work over the weekend. Forget what will be waiting on the desk Monday morning. It can wait. Weekends mean free time, and they're meant to be spent with the important people that make life worth living. Sure, deep down somewhere, I've always known that, but this weekend I actually acted on it.

Friday night I stayed up til 4 a.m., except it wasn't to work on brochures. I spent the evening singing and making lace.

Saturday I went grocery shopping at a store with a huge international section. I called my Greek friend just to see what she was doing, and at the spur of the moment, invited her over to help me cook. After we finished rolling sarmi and making spanachnik, her mom called her cell and invited me over to have dinner with their family. The father and I played backgammon (and I pretty much got my ass served on a platter) but it was so nice to be able to just sit down with new friends and share common traditions. I served them some of the sarmi as an appetizer, and the dad (the super Greek dad with the accent) said that they were better than the Greek Dolmas. *flattered*

Then my friend let me play with her hamster and it peed all over my jeans. Who knew that those little critters could hold so much liquid.

After dinner my friend's sister called. She and her girlfriend were throwing a party so hey, why not, right? Beats sitting at home. We went and it was so much fun-- drunk pictionary is hilarious because no one can draw and people are incoherent when shouting guesses. Then we went to the grocery store across the street, stole two shopping carts, and took them back to the apartment complex so we could have cart races in the parking lot. It was so random. And I met a guy, Chris, who supposedly told everyone that I was "really cute" but he's "really shy and afraid to talk to me." Aww cute-- he was 19.

One of the girls there brought her dog. It was one of those little dogs that can fit in your purse and look like they have the most awesome mustaches and goatees and perky little ears. "If he starts convulsing and foaming at the mouth, don't panic-- he has seizures almost on a daily basis." This poor little puppy couldn't walk straight, could not control most of his muscles, kept falling off furniture and running into things, and just generally convulsed and bit everything. He was so cute though. I held him most of the evening, which got more and more difficult as the evening progressed. (they ran out of glasses so they gave me mugs of alcohol, and apparently one of my more quotable quotes of the evening was "you know, I'm really glad this thing has a handle...") He was such a sweet little baby, and I'm really glad he has some one who's taking such good care of him.

Overall it was a very satisfying weekend-- seeing old friends and making new ones and just living, which is the way it's supposed to be.

09/21/2007

How often does a girl meet a nice cute young lawyer at a bar? Probably not very often, but that's what ended up happening yesterday. Only it wasn't a "bar" experience, but rather a professional networking event that was sponsored by a local ice house. Lawyers congregate, and since I work for them I now get to swap stories with the boys. There was one that was fresh out of law school and we just clicked because his undergrad was in PR. We exchanged business cards and many awkward smiles. Today a letter went out from my firm with our laundry list of practice areas (we offer more than his firm, so that means that he might refer people to us), my cell phone number, and an invitation to go grab lunch sometime.

Yes, for real. Way more ballsy than usual, but there are just good vibes here.

This morning I met with my poli sci prof's son, the political consultant... for breakfast... at a bar. Yes, really. It's so flattering that these two have taken an interest in little ol' me and want to help-- there are so many better things that he could have done with his time this morning. Instead, we drank caffeinated beverages, ate croissants and talked shop. He had some awesome ideas that I'm definitely going to follow up on. And books he wants me to read. AND PUBLIC OPINION PROJECTS HE WANT ME TO HELP WITH. And he's going to call his contacts and see if any of the political offices need help. And get me involved in the city political and networking events. And holy crap, how did this happen?

This happens more often than I'd like to admit, and for some reason it only happens with names, not with real words. *sigh*

It's even more awkward at work when answering the phones where people just blurt out their names at the beginning of the hurried conversation and expect me to remember and take messages... so that's been fun for everyone.

How is it that I worked as an editor (and was pretty good at it) and yet manage to screw up people's names so badly?

09/10/2007

It's so important to tell the people you love that you love them. So important and so easy.

It doesn't involve gifts, it doesn't need to be showy, it doesn't need to be witnessed by others... it's just a simple "I love you" to let people know that you care. My parents are the best-- they never miss an opportunity to tell each other.

But it's not just romantic relationships, friendships need it too, and luckily my friends know that.

One thing that's been bugging me lately (although it shouldn't be and this is probably extremely selfish) is that the replies are changing. Instead of "I love you too" it's gotten to the point where it's down to "you too," a smile, or even just a "yeah, bye" before hanging up the phone. That counts? Really?

09/09/2007

While walking on the trails this evening, I passed Sean going the other way on his bicycle. Sean was one of the bullies in seventh grade that made my life a living hell, helped push me into an eating disorder, made me afraid to look at any guy in the eyes for nearly two years, and made me wish the earth would just open up and swallow me whole.

"Hey Archer! How's it going? How've you been? Are you still in school? What are you doing these days?"

It was so uncomfortable to make polite smalltalk.

None of those boys have any idea.

At least he recognized me, while some of the others have actually come up to me and introduced themselves as if they never knew me.

He went on his way and my knees gave out and I just started bawling.

How can something that happened so long ago still have such a powerful effect? How can I be so weak? Why don't I have the courage to be myself, and instead soak up the habits and mannerisms of everyone around me? Why do I think that all of these problems will magically go away if I just change on the outside? Why do I think everything's my fault and that I brought all of this upon myself... that I deserve it for some reason?

If I hate them for what they did, that's unhealthy for me even though it almost makes me believe that they did something very wrong and that I deserved better.

If I forgive them, isn't that admitting defeat on my part and make what they did not as bad?